Fingerstains by Vic Winter - 2

Explosive Distractions by BA Tortuga - 8

Little Explosions by Sean Michael - 16

Contributors - 28

Fingerstains

Vic Winter

“Mommy, what’s wrong with that man’s hands?”

“Hush, Jimmy.”

“But Mom-”

“Shh!”

I smile wryly as the young mother drags her little boy off. I suppose she figures he
was being rude. The truth is, my fingers are all stained a deep, dark purple. And it
isn’t any sort of disease. There’s nothing wrong with them aside from a little arthritis,
and it’s not like you can see that.

My fingers are simply stained from all the fruit I’ve picked through the years.
Strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries. Plums and cherries. Grapes. They
all stain a man’s hands temporarily, and if he does it for long enough, they’ll stain
them permanently, the color leeched deep into the cells.

I wear them as a badge of honor, my stains. I worked hard for hands like these, made
a living wage doing backbreaking work that no one else wanted to do. I worked out in
the harsh sunshine, bending, or climbing to pick one fruit or another. My parents, my
brothers and sisters, my friends, we all had the same stains. I never thought much
about them; it’s always been something that just was a part of life.

And in the end, my stained hands found their perfect match...

July Fourth was my favorite day. Everything stopped for that day. There was no
picking, no worries about money, no arguments over who had been in line the longest.
It was a celebration all over the land and our little town of tents was no exception.
Dulce’s mama always set up a stand, selling quesadillas for a dime a piece. There was
a pie eating contest, the pies made from the strawberries we’d been picking, all ripe
and juicy and so good I always believed I could eat a thousand of them and still have
room for just one more.

One year Paulo set up a dunk tank, charging a quarter for three throws, and he made
so much money that he did it again every year, and after that, others set up games,
too: ring toss and knock the pins off the shelf. Old Ese set up a shooting range behind
his tent, carefully charting who had hit how many targets and at the end of the day
awarding a dinner for two at Annie’s Steakhouse on the highway to the best shooter.

It was a day to drink beer and hang out with my friends. Sometimes Nicky scored
weed and we’d lie out in the strawberry fields until the fireworks started, the blue sky
a haze, the scent of the ripened fruit rising up around us.

We ate, we drank, we partied just like everyone else in the country, and after dark we
lit the sky up with so many colors. You could always tell what kind of year it was by

how long the fireworks display lasted. Most years it was twenty minutes or so, but I
can remember one year it went on for over half an hour, one huge explosion after
another. And another year it had barely lasted five minutes.

The year I was twenty two was a pretty good year. I can remember the heat that
summer, making the fields shimmer with it, making the fruit squish up right under
your fingers if you weren’t careful. We had a lot of outsiders at the festivities that
year, rowdy boys who were eying up our girls, making the mamas shout and the papas
growl. Everyone was having a good time, though, and it turned out there was a boy
eyeing me up, too.

He wasn’t like anyone I’d ever known before. He was tall and skinny as a pole, his
skin pale like the sun had never touched it, except for the band of freckles across his
cheeks. He had the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen, and back then I hadn’t ever seen
anyone with green eyes before. He kept his t-shirt on, even when everyone else had
bowed to the sun’s demands and stripped to as little as possible.

It was his hands that I noticed first, though.

Everyone’s hands were stained – we were all pickers – with the exception of the rich
kids who came to slum and party with us. And my boy’s hands were stained, too, but
not the red and purple of everyone else. No, his hands were black like the devil
himself had left his mark.

After I saw his hands, I followed him, watching as he played a few games, tossing a
ball just like the rest of us did with those blackened fingers. I watched as he ate,
pulling the tortillas apart and pushing it into his mouth, licking at his fingers. It made
me wonder how they tasted. Which made my prick get interested in a way it never did
with the girls, and of course that was when he caught me staring.

He let his hands drop and we watched each other for the longest moment of my life,
and then he stepped forward and held out one hand. “Seth McDougal.”

“Jaime Nunez.” I shook that hand, looking for a moment as our fingers slid side by
side, purple red next to black. I don’t know if it was because of the two colors, or just
because somehow we each knew, but we held that shake a bit longer than normal and
when our hands finally dropped he gave me this great smile, his teeth white and wide.

We wandered around together after that, stopping to get ice cream, which melted
before we were even half finished, and his laughter as we drank it was sweet, made
my belly warm. After we’d more or less wandered everywhere there was to wander,
he turned to me and smiled. It was a smile that said he had a secret. I wanted to be that
secret.

“You wanna grab some beer and go sit somewhere quieter?”

I nodded -- I knew what he meant by sit somewhere quieter and I knew just the place
to do it.

The orchards sat at the far end of the farm, row upon row of trees that were full of
fruit not yet ripe enough to pick. There were peaches and oranges, lemons and limes,
the sharp acid scent of them not nearly as strong as the berries we passed. There were
pairs hidden in the grasses there – it was where everyone went when they didn’t want
to be seen, when they wanted to touch and kiss and make out.

Seth and I walked to the very end of the orchard – we knew better than to chance
someone noticing our grass rustling wasn’t being done by a boy and a girl. We sat
with our backs against a lemon tree, looking out over the rocky terrain the bordered
the orchard and drinking our beer.

I learned that he worked in the fireworks factory and his fingers were stained by the
gunpowder, just like mine were stained by the fruit I picked. He had plans though – he
was going to school at night – engineering – and one day he’d be designing the
fireworks instead of making them.

We argued over which ones were best – I liked the ones that went screaming in spirals
through the sky, but he said those were cheap and the best ones were the graduated
ones that would burst with one color, and then come back with a second and
sometimes even a third. He said those were his favorites to make, but they were more
dangerous because of the numerous charges to set them off.

At dusk we ate the tamale pie I’d snagged from my mama’s table, eating it with our
fingers, getting them all messy and sticky. I was fascinated every time he put his
fingers into his mouth to suck them clean.

“What?” His voice was half laughing, half annoyed and I nodded to his hands.

”I just wonder what that black tastes like.”

He shrugged. “What about yours – do they taste like berries?”

I didn’t think they did, but I was willing to offer them over – provided he did the
same.

And that’s how we wound up finally doing what we’d really gone out there to do.

He went first, eyes watching my face as he held my hand between both of his, and his
tongue touched ever so briefly against my fingertips. It wasn’t a long touch, it wasn’t
a hard touch, but I tell you it went straight to my shorts, making my cock throb. And
then he took one of my fingers right into his mouth and started sucking on it.

Jesu Cristo, I thought my head was going to come right off my neck, just like I was
one of those fireworks. He sucked on one finger and then the next, his teeth scraping
across the pads, his tongue licking and circling around each finger. His mouth was
hotter than the July day, and even his eyes seemed to burn into mine.

I had never felt anything like it.

No, really. I had never done anything like that before. There was no one to do it with,
and I knew better than to tell anyone that I liked boys instead of girls. So the touch,
the sucking, that having my fingers inside someone else’s mouth while they worked
them with their lips and teeth and tongue... that was something different, special.

And my body loved it.

My heart was racing, my cock filling, going as hard as it had ever been but without a
single touch to it. I could feel my balls drawn up tight against my body and my skin
felt tight; it felt like a single touch would break me apart into a million pieces.

He smiled, letting my fingers go, and I whimpered at the sudden loss of that heat, that
suction and the way it made my whole body feel. But he held out his hand expectantly
and I took it between mine, noting how long his fingers were, especially compared to
mine. Even his palm was long, the skin softly pink, such a contrast to the dark-stained
skin of his fingers.

I brought his hand to my mouth and took one of his fingers in, lips closing over it,
sucking on it like he’d sucked on mine. He tasted good. There was the slightest hint of
spice from the tamale pie, and a salty, musky flavor that had to be him. And then there
was something else, something faint, but there, that tasted sort of like smoke on my
tongue.

Copying what he’d done to me, using my teeth and tongue, I hoped that it would
make him feel as good as it had made me feel. I knew it was working when he started
making these little sounds: soft moans and half whimpers, and my name, said like I’d
never heard it before, but wanted to hear again. Each sound went right to my cock and
balls, making me ache.

I let his finger go and we sat there for a moment, staring at each other, both of us
panting like we’d been running. His green eyes had gone dark and they held my gaze.
I don’t know how long we stared at each other, but all of a sudden the spell was
broken and we pushed against each other, lips finding lips, our teeth clicking as we
kissed.

It was my first kiss from a boy and nothing like the few kisses I’d had from girls who
liked me. Those had done nothing for me, this one made goosebumps rise up over my
skin, it made my toes curl and my nipples go hard as if a cold breeze had blown
across them. I didn’t want it to end, but eventually we had to stop, both of us drawing
in a sharp breath.

We started at each other for another long moment and then Seth laughed. Oh, the
sound was nearly as good as the kiss and I joined in and we were kissing again, lips
crashing together, tongues sliding together.

He pushed me back onto the ground, the grass tickling and scratching my bare back,
but the discomfort soon gave way to the pleasure as his body came down on mine.
He’d stripped out of his shirt and his skin was smooth and soft and warm where it
touched mine. The sensation of his belly against mine was good – it felt so intimate,

but not nearly as intimate as the way his need pressed on mine when he settled
between my legs.

I wished we weren’t wearing our shorts, but maybe it was a good thing. It all felt so
good, just like that, and it might have been too much skin on skin if it was all over. As
it was, I bucked up and rubbed us together, running on instinct, doing what felt right
and good.

We kept kissing, and his fingers touched my skin, stroking me like they were making
a map of my muscles. I touched back, tried to copy what he was doing, but soon it
was too hard and I just stroked and patted whatever skin I could reach. Shocks of
pleasure were going through me, going straight from wherever his fingers touched to
my cock.

“Oh. Gonna!” I was so close and about to make a mess of my shorts. And mama
would know. I started to panic a little.

“Shh. Shh, Jaime, it’s okay.” Seth’s fingers were at my crotch, working open my
shorts, the button, the zipper, and then his hand pushed into my underwear and pulled
out my cock.

The combination of his hand and the air hitting my most sensitive skin together was
more than enough for me. I muffled my cry against his shoulder, my whole body
shuddering, shaking as I came all over his hand and my own belly. I had never come
like that, with another person touching me and it left me limp, lying in the grasses and
panting hard, my cock still wrapped in his stained fingers.

He smiled down at me and I thought I was falling in love with this pale boy with
fingers stained black.

I reached up, tracing his features with my stained fingers, doing some memorizing of
my own. He moaned, eyes closing. It made me feel good – that I was doing it right,
making him feel good. I didn’t linger long, though. I wanted to touch him like he’d
touched me. I wanted him to come with my hand on his prick.

I was nearly distracted by his belly, by the way the slender muscles jerked and flexed,
but then he opened his own shorts and tugged them down a bit. His cock pushed out,
nudging my wrist, and his belly was forgotten in favor of his prick. It was long and
hard, the tip leaking, one drop after another.

Gasping, I reached down, tentative circling his heat.

“More.” His hand joined mind, squeezing tightly, and then guiding me. Up and down
our hands went, stroking the fiery heat of him. He bucked and cried out, hips moving
now as well as our hands, urging us to faster, more. I squeezed harder, taking my cue
from his fingers, and before long he jerked, heat splashing up over our bellies and
chests.

He collapsed down half on top of me, and he was heavier than he looked, but I didn’t
care, I liked the way he felt. I liked that he was real and there and sticky and lying on
me.

I discovered that kisses didn’t have to be hard and wild – they could be soft and lazy,
too.

Later that night we joined everyone else in the strawberry fields, lying between the
rows and watching the fireworks in the sky. It was a good year that year, and they
lasted a long, long time.

I’ll never forget lying there, the scent of ripe berries all around us as the sky exploded
with colors. In between the strawberry plants, hidden within the leaves and fruit, my
hand held his, purple red and black twined together.

“Jaime. Earth to Jaime.”

I realize suddenly that I’ve been daydreaming – caught in the memories of my first
time, of the boy with the stained fingers who I met all those years ago, back when I
was young and strong and my eyes could see without glasses.

“Goodness, you were a million miles away.”

I nod. “I was. Sorry.”

“Well did you get the milk?” My partner – my lover – starts poking through our
grocery basket. “You haven’t added a thing, Jaime! Really, how long have you been
standing here staring off into space?”

“A while.” I give him a smile and his look of annoyance turns indulgent.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him as I take his hand. “But I have a sudden hankering for
strawberries.”

“Whatever you want, babe, as long as we don’t have to pick them.”

He keeps hold of my hand as we head down the aisle toward the produce, my purple
red fingers twined with his black-stained ones.

Explosive Distractions

BA Tortuga

"Wait." Sonny lifted his head, feeling the bridge of his nose cut through the thick,
humid July air like a dull knife through cake. Fucking Florida in July. He could be
under a palm tree in Aruba. "We're in Florida for fireworks? How patriotic of you,
Precious."

"Yep. There's a warehouse over there full of them. You'll have to dock for a couple
hours and then I'll be back." Oh. Someone was getting bored.

"Whut?" Something didn't add up. He'd been promised new boots and maybe a corny
dog. Not so much with the corny dogs in Aruba, so he took any chance he could to get
them in the States.

"I'm going to go... explore a bit. Restock. Uh. Create a touch of private chaos.
Nothing fatal. You're going to go stalk the pier and buy some fudge."

"Nope." He rolled to a sitting position, crossing his arms and shaking his head. "We
were supposed to stalk the pier for fair food together."

"I can't blow up the warehouse from the fair, Sunshine."

"Right. Because that's more important than keeping your redneck happy." He batted
his eyelashes, rubbing his bare chest.

MJ arched one eyebrow, mouth open to snap something back, eyes following his
hands.

"You'll catch flies..." Sonny pinched one of his own nipples, just grinning to beat the
band.

"Huh?" Must be boredom; it took more to distract his Precious from a paying gig.

"With your mouth hanging open that way." Sonny spread his legs, letting it all hang
out. "Don't you want to make me happy, MJ?"

"I do. I make you happy, asshole."

"Well, come make me a happy asshole and show me you love me more than
explosions." That was pushing it, and Sonny knew it, but he couldn't help it. He'd
been pushing his Precious since they met.

"I don't know... I'm damn fond of explosions..." MJ wandered right up to him, hand
cupping his balls and giving them a roll and a tug.

Little hairs stood up all over his body, and God knew he had enough of them. Sonny
moaned a little, licking his lips. "I know..."

"Mmhmm." MJ'd forgotten all about the boom; Sonny could tell. He fucking rocked
at this whole 'distract the terrorist' thing.

He reached out and grabbed one lean hip, his fingers sliding over ink and skin.
"'Course, I like fast cars. But I like you better."

"You like me in fast cars." MJ stepped closer, palming his balls, fingers sliding
behind. "You like blow jobs in muscle cars where the truckers can fucking look in and
be jealous."

"And you like hand jobs with hostages in the back seat. We're well matched."
Yanking MJ down on his lap put his balls in danger, but made his cock pretty damned
happy.

"Uhn. Hey." MJ grinned down at him, leaned in to bite the living Hell out of his
bottom lip.

"Mmmm." Hell, Sonny figured he'd forgotten the question, too. Naked skin trumped
just about anything. He just grabbed that tight ass, pulling MJ right up against him.

"Weren't we... uh... Yeah." MJ shrugged, pushed fucking hard and toppled them,
landing square on top of him so that their mouths crashed together.

Licking and biting, he took the kiss, his mouth opening under MJ's. Goddamn. MJ
said he was oral? That man could flat out kiss.

"Sunshine." MJ tilted his head, just a little, and that fucking kiss went deeper, MJ just
fucking his mouth.

Sonny rolled them, pushing MJ down on the deck, his hands on those strong
shoulders so he could hold MJ down and hump like he was riding the pony or some
shit. Who was fucking distracting who, yeah?

Those little fucking noises MJ made? Settled right in his balls, sweet as anything. His
back arched, his hips working away, rubbing his cock against MJ's belly. Ping!
Friction. Go him. Sonny liked friction.

"Gonna have deck burn on your knees. My ass." Fucker was laughing at him.

"Adds spice, Precious." He'd show that man deck burns. Pushing back, Sonny knelt
up between MJ's thighs, spreading and lifting until he could bend and lick the line of
skin behind MJ's balls.

"Oh. Oh, fuck. Sunshine." Uh-huh. Yep. Just like that.

The way MJ's legs curled around his shoulders made Sonny feel like a god. A horny,
really hard god who wanted to just fuck until sunrise.

"Fucking need you." MJ's fingers were scrabbling on the deck; he could hear them
and Sonny knew MJ wasn't thinking about any explosions.

"Gonna give you everything." His tongue moved those balls back and forth and he
could feel the skin shiver and draw up, could feel MJ shudder. Then he went for that
tight little hole, pushing his tongue right in.

MJ grunted and jerked, this raw-ass sound coming out as those thighs on his shoulders
went tight as stone.

Yeah. Somebody loved his mouth, yes they did. Goddamn, he loved the way MJ
spread for him. Fucking needed it all the damned time. Sonny worked that tiny ring of
muscle until it was loose, open for him. Yeah. Then he'd go to town.

He just heard MJ's voice, begging for it in that fucking surfer dude accent, asking for
his prick, hot and hard and 'goddamn it, Sunshine, now'.

Laughing for the sheer joy of it, Sonny lowered MJ back down, his own thighs
pushing against the insides of MJ's, opening the man wide.

That little son of a bitch could spread like butter for a hot knife, cock curving over
that pretty belly, hole right there, begging for him.

"Jesus fuck, Precious. Make a dead man come." He was very much alive, though.
Damn. Sonny pushed his cock right where it wanted to go, just grunting and
squeezing in.

"Sonny." MJ blinked up at him, eyes rolling like dice. Yeah. Hell, yeah. This was
only fucking his.

Never anyone else's. Just like his hairy redneck ass was MJ's. All the way to the
ground. He started rocking, just pushing and moving, needing more.

MJ got up on his elbows, adding his strength to their fucking, causing pure electricity
to slide down Sonny's spine.

"MJ. Christ." Though Christ should wait for the second coming, not the first. Which
was close. Very close.

"Yeah." MJ's hands found that leaking cock, started pulling and tugging and giving
him a show.

"Oh, fuck. Fuck. Soon." He was gonna explode. He'd never been in that man without
feeling like he was gonna die happy.

"Uh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh." MJ nodded, too-long hair bouncing as that pretty ass went
tight-tight.

His eyes rolled, too, just like MJ's had, and Sonny let out a surprised grunt. He was
coming so fast he hardly had time to tense up, just shooting like crazy. There was
spunk all over his belly when he came back down, MJ relaxed and moaning under
him.

"Oh." Humming, he stroked MJ's hip, licking sweat off one cheek. "Better."

"Uh-huh. Much." MJ was blinking nice and slow, humming as his tongue traced the
line of the scar leading up MJ's face.

His fucking mark. Did it get any better than that? "So. Corny dog?"

"Mmm. I do like those. Do I get funnel cake too?"

"You do." He'd get anything MJ wanted as long as they didn't blow anything up.

"Okay. Maybe we can find a nice quiet place to blow each other during the fireworks
tonight."

"Oh, that sounds like a fine idea, Precious. The best you've had in an age." He stroked
that wild hair, smiling at the sky. Yeah. That would set off all sorts of sparks.

***

Man, they'd eaten more than a bunch of middle-aged stoners at an all-you-can-eat
banquet.

And MJ could say that from experience.

They'd splurged and found a top floor hotel room, with balcony and wet bar and bed
the size of the boat.

MJ fucking approved.

He was sprawled on a deck chair, sunglasses on, wearing nothing put a pair of Miami
Heat shorts and a smile.

He may never look at a corny dog again.

A cold, wet bottle hit his belly, making him jump. "Looking good, Precious."

"Mmm." Sonny was being all smug about the distracting, no-explosion thing. He'd be
irritated if it wasn't sort of cute. Vaguely. Besides, he was too full to blow shit up.

"Good food, huh?" Sonny flopped down on the chair next to him, long legs just going
on and on.

"I'm never fucking eating again."

"Bullshit. You'll work it off. I promise." Oh, listen to that drawl. It always meant good
things after a nap happened.

"You think so? You think you can get my heart racing? I mean, I could be blowing
shit up." He reached out with one foot, tugged the hair on Sonny's leg.

"Ow. I think I could, for sure. In fact, I have a fine track record." Those long fingers
slid over his foot, Sonny teasing him a little.

"Yeah, well, I admit that funnel cake thing? Almost as good as chocolate. Maybe
better than sex."

"I'm not sure I want to take a backseat to fried bread." Still, Sonny was grinning huge,
nodding. "It was good, though."

The first splash of light hit the sky, the colors just a little dull because it wasn't quite
dark enough. "Ah, it's starting."

"Uh-huh. We should move closer together." Putting actions to words, Sonny scooted
his chair on over, right where they could press up together. Oh, warm.

"You know, I..." He was sure he had some deep, internal, political statement to make
about Independence Day. He did.

Hell, it was probably fascinating.

But Sonny's lips crashed into his, hard enough to derail him, to send him flying away
with the little flecks of magnesium and copper that were burning.

Sonny never let him talk politics.

Fuck, that was good. All that naked skin pressing up against him, Sonny sucking his
tongue until his eyes crossed. Yeah. His legs spread, toes curling up as Sonny's
fingers wrapped around his balls, tugging enough that he felt it in his belly.

That man had the fastest hands east of... Well. Anywhere he could remember. Except
maybe Singapore. Wait. That would be west, right?

Then Sonny tugged a little harder, rumbling deep in his chest, and MJ lost track of
why he gave a shit. Look. Purple lights. Red. "Damn."

"Mmmmhmm. Damn, Precious. Look at all the sparklies." Those fingers moved just
right, making his whole body bounce on the chair.

"Uh. Uh-huh. I." Yeah. Lights. Jesus, Sonny had amazing fucking hands.

"You like that, huh?" Oh, Sonny knew just how much he liked it when those rough
fingers slid behind his balls, pressing hard at the tiny strip of skin there.

"Fuck." One of his legs jerked up, just like there was a button back there, controlling
him.

"MJ. Hotter than any Fourth of July..." Sonny kissed him again, making his head spin,
extra little lights going off behind his eyes. The deck chairs creaked and groaned,
reminding him a little of fucking on the boat, of the way everything moved for them
as they played.

"What do you want, Precious?" Oh, he was supposed to think when those lips
wrapped around his nipple and Sonny's fingers traced his hole?

His foot slammed onto the concrete, hips pushing up as he groaned. Those teeth
caught him, the sting and burn just enough to make toes curl. Sonny bit harder, really
making him feel it when one finger slid inside him, scratching all the way in. Oh,
God.

"More." The lights just kept flashing - reds and blues and purples and fucking greens.

"More? Like this, more?" Two fingers, then three... yeah. That was more. That was
ping and stretch and goddamn.

"Uhn." Yeah. Yeah. He pushed up, staring into Sonny's eyes, just about ready to pop
off. "Sunshine."

"Fucking love that look. Love how you want it." Those dark eyes stared right back,
Sonny smiling for him, that razor's edge grin that meant the man was right there with
him.

"You love me." Oh. Dude. Fireworks. Fucking fireworks.

"I do. Now, Precious." Those fingers pushed in hard, pegging his gland, Sonny
growling for him deep and low.

"Now." He jerked, coming so hard that the fireworks just burst, colors firing. That his
fucking eyes were closed was completely beside the point.

"Fucking beautiful." Sonny crawled right into his chair, knees on either side of his
thighs, that hard cock humping his belly.

He grabbed Sonny's ass, pulling up and scooting down at the same time. He got his
lips wrapped around Sonny's prick, pulling hard, needing that bitter-salt.

"Shit! MJ. Harder. Touch me." Those strong muscles went so tight, so hard, Sonny
giving him everything.

He sucked hard enough he saw stars, fingers tapping the tight, hot little hole.

"Uhn!" The last explosion was always the best. Sonny filled his mouth, gave him all
that heat and wet and bitter, just boom. Incendiary.

They slumped down, the chair just creaking like an old house. It worked though, held
them both up. It was hot. He could taste Sonny. The smell of cordite was in the air.

Life was fucking amazing.

***

Sonny woke up, every muscle tensing up when he reached over to pat MJ's butt and it
wasn't there.

Really, the lack of MJ butt was a terrifying thing. The man should still be asleep, ass
up in the air, ink showing stark on that skin. If MJ wasn't asleep, and Sonny couldn't
hear the shower running, it was time to get up and move.

Rolling out of bed, Sonny started looking, even peeking behind the curtains.

Nope.

No MJ in the room.

No MJ in the bath.

No MJ shoes.

No MJ little black bag.

Goddamn it.

He damn near missed the note, taped on the fucking a/c unit. "Sunshine. Morning.
Look over the water. M."

Sonny threw on a pair of jeans and shirt, grabbed his gun and tucked it in his
waistband and pulled out his own little kit full of syringes and vials. Only then did he
open the sliding glass doors and go out on the balcony.

Just like magic, one explosion after another started, warehouses full of fireworks just
going straight to Hell.

Okay, not even MJ was that good. Where was the little fucker hiding with the
detonator?

He scanned the roof of their hotel, where their little paradise was from the night
before. No MJ. Okay. Okay, find the most likely places, Redneck, he told himself.

He turned around, looking away from the fireworks and saw the little fuck, three
balconies over, drinking a cup of coffee and watching him.

Oh, that little bastard. Fucking motherfucker. The explosions were bad enough, but to
leave him our of it… Sonny lifted his hand and gave MJ a one-fingered salute, turning
and marching right back into the hotel room. He'd pack his shit and leave that little
fuck for the police.

MJ appeared before he got all packed, looking about as cool as a cucumber. "Enjoy
the show?"

Sonny took a deep breath and let it out his nose. "Are you stupid?"

"Not last time I checked. IQs change."

"They must." His little kit was the last thing he put it away, and Sonny sure did think
about using it, first.

"Right. Okay, then. I guess I'll see you at the dock. My fee will've transferred by
then." MJ grabbed his laptop and ditty bag, heading straight for the door.

"Fee..." What the fuck? "You never mentioned a fee, Precious. You just said you
wanted to blow up fireworks. I think I might have to beat you..."

"You'd have to catch me first." One eyebrow went up. "I know how you feel about the
random jobs. Money was good, though. Real good."

"Uh-huh." Casually, slow-like, Sonny moved close enough to tackle MJ. "You know
what's worst? You left me asleep while you went to work."

"You looked cute." Cute.

Fuckhead.

He was not the one who came out swinging on cute, though. Really. His hands
clenching meant nothing. "What are you going to do to make it up to me, Precious?"

"There's a muscle car show starting at noon and I have a wad of cash. What do you
think, Sunshine?" The asshole actually cracked a smile, eyes dancing.

Oh. Well. That could work. "Is this car show far enough away that we won't have to
leave it at a run?" He wanted to actually look this time.

"You know it. It's a holiday weekend, after all, and it would look odd, to leave so
soon after that terrible accident."

"There you go. Okay, then. We'll go. You buy me a nice car, Precious, and I'll blow
you in public." MJ would like that. All danger man.

"Works for me." MJ pushed close, tugged him down into a kiss that made his ears
ring. Mmm. Coffee. "Let's go get waffles."

"Waffles..." Sonny blinked, following his cock, which was following MJ. "Sausage?"

"All you can eat, Redneck."

"You're cruising, Precious." His hand landed on MJ's ass, just hard enough to sting,
but he wasn't mad anymore. Nope, his mood improved apace.

"I was just trying to give you fireworks."

Uh-huh. Just. Pure philanthropist, his Precious.

Balls to bones.

Little Explosions

Sean Michael

"I fucking hate the Fourth."

Dan pulled his hair from the ponytail, dunking his head in the sink and letting the cold
water run over it a little. He was tense, from his toes to his now-wet noggin. Forty
burns, three requiring transport to County. Eighteen sets of stitches. Two alcohol
poisonings. One dog bite and one little boy with a bottle rocket in the eye.

"Shit, Doc. It was a quiet one." Greg grinned, winked, still looking somewhat fresh.

"Look, you bastard. I had a double. You only got some." He grabbed the towel that
Greg tossed to him, drying off a little. "You sure you don't need me to stay?"

"Nah, man. Peters and Dogson are both coming in at seven. That's only an hour.
Besides, Barbara the wonder nurse is on. She's a star."

"She is. She should have gone to med school." He started stripping down, grabbing a
pair of jeans and a t-shirt from his locker. Greg plopped down on the sofa for a
second, coffee in hand. It was hard to believe that they'd worked together ten years,
that he delivered Greg's daughter on a deck at a party, that Greg had fucking held him
when Will died, and he didn't know how the man took his coffee.

Just weird.

"You back tomorrow?"

"Nope. Monday. Pulled three sets of doubles. I'm going down to the beach house for a
few." Sand. Sun. No phone. No 'net. Just him and the waves. And...

Fuck. The phones went off all over, the ER suddenly like an ant nest that someone ran
over with a lawnmower.

Greg took off running and Dan yanked his lab coat on. Damn it. Damn it.

"Three car accident, Doc. You coming?"

He nodded to Jane, got his hair tied back and headed out in time to start triage on a
teenager, doing his best to see injuries through all the fucking blood. There were
EMTs and firemen and nurses, screaming family members and cops, and this kid with
a hole in her head the size of a lemon.

Jesus.

He hated working holidays.

One of the cops took control, started barking orders at the others and soon the
screaming was backed off out into the admitting area of emergency room, growing
quieter. Leaving the blood and the guts right there in his hands.

It was long gone seven before things were quiet again and he could even think about
taking off the lab coat. Before he could escape, that cop with the big mouth was back,
notebook in hand, looking every inch as tired and put out as he felt. Tall, lanky, the
guy had lines at the eyes and mouth that said he laughed a lot, even if that was
nowhere in evidence tonight. Dan was pretty sure that was a handsome face
somewhere beneath the soot. Then the man looked up at him and the most amazing
dark green eyes shone out of the dirty face.

"I hate to take up more of your time, Doc. But I need some information for my
paperwork and I'll be damned if I'm revisiting this fucking piece of shit day by having
to come back and get information next week. You have somewhere quiet we can sit
for a moment or three?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. Come on." He led the officer back to the lounge, nodded to the
sofa. "Have a seat. There's coffee in the pot."

He stripped off his coat, his t-shirt, tossing them in the bio-hazard bin.

"Thanks, I've been mainlining the stuff since last night. Fucking hate this holiday."

"Yeah. You and me both. What info do you need?" He got a washcloth wet, started
cleaning up a little.

There wasn't an answer right away and he looked over, found those pretty eyes
staring. Dan puffed up a little, let the tall guy look. He was on the short side, himself,
but he didn't look bad; he worked out and looked it. Of course, it could be that the cop

was staring as his armband. Rainbows and two male symbols were a dead giveaway
to his particular tastes.

No, not his armband; he was given a full once-over, and when those eyes met his
again, there was color under all that dirt on those cheeks. The cop cleared his throat.
"Sorry, I ah." Then he shrugged and grinned. "Hell, I'm about to come off the worst
double shift I've had in a month and I haven't seen anything as good-looking as you in
a month of Sundays. I like the ink."

"Thanks. You're new? I haven't seen you before." He knew everybody on the south
side.

"Yeah, transferred in a few weeks ago. I should have waited 'til after the holiday." He
was given a slow wink, and then the guy held out his hand. "Bruce Truby."

"Dan Maloney." Nice handshake. Strong. He approved. "You want a rag to wipe your
face off? It's got to be itching."

Oh, that grin was bright in the dirt-darkened face. "It is, and I would."

Bruce shrugged out of his jacket, and folded it across the back of the couch before
reaching out for the damp cloth.

Mmm. Very nice. Very nice. "What all do you need to know, man?" Work before
pleasure.

Bruce wiped his face down quickly -- cleaning up pretty nicely, if Dan did say so --
and sat with his notebook. "I need a list of who's hurt how. Names if you've got them,
but I can work from just descriptions and match them up with the witness accounts."

"I don't have names -- you'll have to get the nurses on that. I worked on the blonde
teenager. She died of head trauma and blood loss. The older man is up in surgery with
internal damage and a shattered pelvis. Beyond that, you'll have to ask the others."
Those two had been enough.

Nodding, Bruce wrote it all down in a quick, messy shorthand. "Bucky -- my partner -
- said he'd talk to the nurse -- uh, Barbara or something?"

"Yeah. She's amazing. She'll fix you up." He dragged another t-shirt on, sighing.
"Man, I'm starving."

"I hear that -- I've been living off coffee the last twelve hours. I was supposed to sign
off three hours ago..." That notebook was flipped closed and put in a pocket.

"You know about Paddy's Diner, yet?"

The green eyes slid over him again, definite interest there. "Nope. Good eats?"

"You know it. Pancakes. Bacon. Orange juice." His cock actually perked up, pushing
a little at the placket of his jeans.

"Sounds good. I just need to let Bucky and dispatch know I'm clocking off. Otherwise
I'm finally a free man."

"Me, too, 'til Monday. Wanna?" He could so spend some time, just hang out. Visit.
Watch that mouth eat.

"I do, Dan. Very much." He got a quiet smile and then Bruce shrugged back into his
jacket. "If I can catch a lift with you I'll meet you at the front desk in five?"

"I'll pull around and pick you up. Red Mustang convertible." He grinned over,
winked. "All the work's got to be for something, huh?"

"Yeah." Bruce walked slowly backward, giving him yet another once over, this one
almost like a physical touch. "Sweet ride."

And somehow he didn't think Bruce was talking about the car.

***

Bruce let Bucky know he was clocking out, and he checked in one last time with
dispatch, figuring he’d quit if they needed him for even one more minute -- he was
done. Luckily for all of them they didn’t

"You be good now, Bruce."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Now what did I tell you to call me?"

"Sorry, Maureen."

"That's better, honey. You have someone to go see the fireworks with?"

He strode out the door at the front of hospital, looking for Dan. Okay, looking for the
mustang, but Dan would be driving it. "I think I've seen enough fireworks tonight to
last the rest of the year."

"Yeah, honey. You enjoy your days off, you deserve 'em."

"Thanks. Night, Maureen." He turned off his radio and looked around.

Jesus, look at that car.

Look at that man.

With sunglasses and tight t-shirt, long, black hair loose and hanging around Dan’s
shoulders.

Tired as Bruce was, cranky as he was, much as he thought this fucking holiday sucked
great big fat hairy donkey balls, his cock perked right up and his step suddenly felt
lighter as he headed over to the amazing pair of man and machine.

This day was suddenly looking up.

He grinned and jumped into the passenger seat, hand sliding on the sweet leather
interior.

"Howdy, Officer." That grin went straight to his cock. "Buckle up and we'll go eat."

He did as he was told, fingers brushing against Dan's thigh as he pushed the seat belt
into the buckle. Oh, warm under the jeans. He could feel the muscles flex. Nice.

They headed out, Dan comfortable behind the wheel, sure. Confident. He leaned back
against the headrest, really beginning to relax after a double shift gone long. Admiring
the view. And he wasn't looking at the scenery flitting by.

"Man, it was a long Goddamn night, huh? You from around here?"

It was a long night, but it was getting better every second the wind blew on his face
and this good-looking man whisked him further away from the hospital. "Grew up a
few towns over. I've been in Washington the last while, though. Came back for my
Daddy's funeral."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry. That's got to suck." Dan reached over, patted his leg. "Was he
sick?"

"No, he wasn't. Just up and had a heart attack." He shook his head; it still wasn't real
in a lot of ways. "Died on his tractor -- took out two fences before he hit a tree. It was
the way he wanted to go." He grinned and gave Dan a wink. "Either that or courting --
this involved less hysterical women."

"You know it." They pulled into a little dive, Dan sighing as he killed the engine.
"Here she is. Best pancakes ever."

"Awesome. I want a huge stack. And bacon. A sausage or two. Milk or something --
I'm all coffee'd out." He smiled over at Dan. Yeah, he'd like some of that, too. "They
family in there?"

"Yeah. Yeah, the place is run by Sara and Annette. Sara's the butch one with the ink.
Annette's the tiny one in the kitchen. Annette will kick your ass."

"I guess I’d better not give her a reason to then, eh? I have other things I'd rather have
happen to it." He met Dan's eyes, hoping the man could see just what he meant.

"Yeah? Do you have a list, honey? Because I could make plans."

Oh, yeah. Score.

"How about we have those pancakes and see if we can't make one between us?"

"Works for me, Officer." They headed in, the crowd waving, greeting the doc like he
was a regular.

"Hey, Dan! You want the usual?" Good Lord, that was the tallest woman he'd ever
seen.

"Yeah, Sara. Bruce here'll need a menu, though. He's new."

He offered a grin and a wave. If the place was half as good as Dan made it sound, he'd
be a regular soon enough himself. Especially if he and Dan got a good long list
going...

"Hi Sara, nice to meet you."

"Howdy, sir. Coffee?"

"Usually that would be a big, yes, ma'am, but I've been up for nearly twenty hours and
if I have another cup of the stuff I just might put a hole in my stomach. Give me a tall
glass of milk, please." He took a glance around the room, noting the free spaces at the
counter, the tables and a few booths. "Up at the counter or over in that back booth?"
The one with enough privacy for a game of footsie.

"The booth works." Dan slapped one older man on the back, nodded at a young
couple on the way. The man seemed to know everyone.

Bruce slid into the booth, automatically sitting with his back to the wall, facing the
door. "You lived here long?"

"Since med. school, yeah. Love it." Dan settled across from him, stretching out. "I like
being out. I like being warm. I like the..." Those dark eyes looked him up and down.
"View."

He spread his legs in his seat, giving his cock room to respond to that look. And
respond it did, not caring how fucking long a day it had been. "View's pretty good
from where I'm sitting, too. I'd like to see more of it."

"Mmm. That could be arranged."

Sara came with the drinks and he ordered, Dan's toe sliding on his leg in a clear offer.

He was suddenly hungry for a whole different menu, but they were here now. Still,
when Sara left with his order for a full stack and bacon, he returned the touch, tip of
his shoe moving along the inside of one of Dan's legs as he held the man's eyes.

"Damn. You. I hope you're offering, man, because I'm willing, you know?" Looked
like the doc wasn't any more into playing games than he was.

"I'm offering. I can eat quick." A little food in his belly and he'd be good for more
than a quick grope. He pressed his foot harder against Dan's leg, his cock just
throbbing in his pants, reminding him it was there. Wanting.

"Yeah. Me, too. My place is three blocks away." Three blocks. Three minutes in that
sweet little car.

"Almost too far." He winked, and then drank down half his milk in an attempt to keep
himself from jumping the good doc right there in the booth. That didn't keep his eyes
from eating the man up though, taking it all in, mind filling in the undressed parts he'd
seen earlier.

"Almost. The bed, though? It's huge. Soft sheets. Pillows. Perfect for gymnastics."

He groaned -- he couldn't help himself, the vision of exactly what kind of gymnastics
they could get up to filling his mind's eye. "Tease," he accused, wetting his lips with
his tongue.

"No. I put out."

"Well thank God for that." He slouched back and let his foot slide right up onto the
banquet to run along Dan's inner thigh.

"Here's your breakfast, boys. No necking under the booth, 'kay?"

Dan grinned up at Sara, nodded. "I promise."

He felt his cheeks heat up a little, but he shook his head. "I'll do my best, but I won't
promise."

"Oh, ho. Doc, you are a lucky, lucky man."

Dan's smile just got bigger and he nodded to Sara. "You know it, lady."

He flicked a glance up at Sara, but his eyes returned to Dan's, like he was drawn to
them. "Somehow I don't think he's the only lucky one." The scent of bacon suddenly
hit his nose, making his stomach growl hard, and he laughed, turned his attention to
the food. "Oh, man, this smells amazing."

"I told you. Best place in town. Try the patty melt at lunch." The doc dug in, eating
like a starving man.

"I'm going to be busy at lunch."

Of course that was before he took his first bite of pancake, and then his second and
third and fourth in quick succession. The food was fucking good and he figured it
wasn't just because he'd been living on coffee for the past twelve hours.

It wasn't any time, any time at all before the food was gone, Dan's pretty dark eyes
staring at him. Wanting him. Just shining, hot as shit.

"Can we leave the money on the table and run?" He barely recognized his own voice,
that look making him shiver deep inside.

"Yeah. Yeah, let's go." Doc stood, hard-on evident in the tight jeans.

Standing, too, his own cock pushing at his uniform trousers, he tugged out some bills
and dropped them on the table before heading out. He managed not to grab Dan's arm
and drag him along, but just barely, and only because he trusted that hard-on to have
the man right on his heels.

It took no time, none, before they were pulling up in front of a little house, painted
bright blue, rainbow flag on the porch. "Home sweet home."

"Pretty." He got out of the car, slamming the door and heading up to the front porch,

no less eager for the two minute drive. And while he didn’t want to be rude, the house
wasn’t why he was here.

"All mine." Dan let them in, the place light and airy and sort of like a showroom
rather than a house. Somebody didn't stay here much. "Bedroom's back here."

And on the one hand he hated to be all who cares about the rest of the place, just show
me the bed, but on the other, Dan was making a bee-line in that direction and they'd
both more than made it clear they were interested in a little private one on one time.

So he followed Dan's ass down the hall, fingers twitching to reach out for the man.

One hand reached back, grabbed hold of his fingers and squeezed. "You want to start
this in the shower, Officer? There's room for two."

"I have to say, doc -- you have the best ideas." He squeezed Dan's fingers back, letting
himself be led.

"I just know how good that massaging head feels." Fuck, look at that grin; that just lit
the man up, dissolving the tired.

"I'm liking you better by the second."

The bathroom was larger than he'd have expected in the little house -- Dan obviously
knew what was important in life -- the shower stall indeed roomy enough for two.
Glancing around, he shrugged out of his jacket. "And I bet seeing you all wet's only
going to increase that."

Stripping down, Dan let him see the rest of what he'd been looking forward to. Tiny
little ass and hips that made the broad shoulders look even bigger, muscled thighs and
calves and a thick, heavy cock crowned with black curls.

He swallowed hard, a low groan dragging out of him as his cock throbbed hard in his
pants. It had been too fucking long. He made quick work of stripping out of his own
clothes, eager to touch and taste and pretty sure once he started he wasn't going to be
interested in stopping long enough to secure his weapon. He took the clip out, and set
it all into the drawer under the sink, and pilled everything else in the corner of the
room on top of his shoes.

Bruce stood for minute, looking his fill as he let Dan get a look at him for the first

time. The way those dark eyes went almost black suited him down to the bone, Dan
just eating him up before going to turn the water on. And he was going to take that
sweet ass turning up at him as Dan got the water on as an invitation.

He walked right up to Dan, his prick leading the way, rubbing against the sweet
cheeks. Oh, fuck. Hot. So hot. Dan leaned right back into him, hips rocking, working
his cock up and down.

His hands slid over Dan's hips, holding them, encouraging those movements. "Dan...
Oh, God."

"Yeah. Yeah, man." They scooted into the water, the steam billowing around them
both. He pulled the curtain closed and suddenly it was like they were in a whole new
world, the massaging head making the water feel better than just about anything. Just
about.

Bruce grabbed Dan's chin and turned his face back, mouth finding the doc's in the
wet, steamy heat. Oh, Hell yes. He felt that all the way down to his toes, Dan rubbing
against him, rocking shamelessly against his thigh. His tongue pushed deep, fingers
tracing the muscles of Dan's arms and chest, exploring the smooth skin.

Those strong muscles fucking fascinated him. The man was a doctor, but he was built
like a fireman, a cop. Bruce moaned into the kiss, loving the way the water fell around
them like another kiss, the way Dan tasted. Dan turned, one leg hooked over his hip,
cock sliding against his inner thigh. His own prick bumped against Dan's balls, and he
jerked, pushing Dan up against the tile, hips moving hard.

Slick and slippery, he was just flying, him and the Doc humping furiously, the water
pounding against them. He bit at Dan's lower lip, teeth sinking in as his climax
gathered in his spine, his balls drawing up tight. He felt Dan's cry, felt the splash of
heat on his belly, his legs, his balls. Oh. Oh, good man. He grabbed Dan's ass with
one hand, tugging him close as his own cock pulsed, emptied against the skin behind
Dan's balls.

"Better." Dan's grin tasted fucking fabulous. "Way better. Takes the edge off for
round two."

"Uh-huh." He kept that hand on Dan's ass, their lower bodies just sort of nudging and
bumping. He licked water off of Dan's lips. "You got specific plans for this round
two?"

"I'm thinking your cock was making pretty clear plans with my ass, Officer."

The words had his cock jerking and deciding it would stay hard instead of going
down. "Yeah. Yeah, I believe it does. I want you, Doc."

"Ditto, Officer." Dan nodded, went up and took another hard kiss. "You were worth
working the Fourth for, man."

"Hell, yeah." He backed out of the shower, bringing Dan with him, their bodies slick
with water. "I bet we make good fireworks together, too."

"Mmmhmm." He got a wicked, wild little grin. "You going to let me ride your roman
candle?"

He threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, fuck, Dan, that was bad. But yes, yes, I
am."

"Hey, bad jokes are my attempt at bedside manner."

"We're not bedside, yet, Doc." He winked and grabbed at a towel, making short work
of drying them both off, though his fingers still wanted to linger on Dan's muscles.
"How about we fix that right about now?"

"Works for me, man. I'm thinking we could both use a nice, long round two." Dan
headed into the bedroom, tight little ass just working.

"Uh-huh." He followed, just like there was a string between that ass and his cock,
tugging him right along.

Fuck, the man looked good and it was all Bruce could do not to tackle Dan down onto
the mattress like a linebacker. Of course, when Dan crawled up onto the bed, hips
swinging, balls hanging between spread thighs?

Pounce.

His mouth closed over the skin of Dan's neck, lips open, tongue working the skin as
he covered Dan's back, his prick sliding along Dan's crack.

"Mmm. That's it. That's good." Dan pushed right back, rubbing hard against him, hips
rocking.

"Stuff?" He muttered, eyes going to the head of the bed, the little bedside table with
the lamp, looking for slick.

"In the drawer."

Oh, dude. Rubbers, lube. Bingo.

He got his fingers all wet -- Dan had the good stuff -- and rubbed one along the man's
crack. He loved the feeling of that wrinkled flesh, he liked the heat and silk inside
better, though, so he slipped his finger right in, his cock throbbing, wanting to be in
there.

"Mmm. You've got good hands." Dan wasn't a shrinking violet, pushing right back
into his touch.

"Yeah, you like that?" He pushed a second finger in with the first, spreading Dan's
ass, getting it good and ready for his cock.

"You know it. Lots of nerves there, lots." A deep blush crawled up Dan's spine.

"Let me see how many I can trip, eh?" He kissed the top of Dan's spine right up at the
neck, lips nibbling as he stroked that beautiful skin inside Dan's body.

"Uh. Uh-huh. Oh, Hell yes." The random words kept coming and each one made him
hotter, harder.

It made him want to take his fingers out and just push right in, but at the same time,
he wanted to draw more of those lovely, groaning words out of Dan. He worked three
fingers in, playing with the nerves right at the very entrance, and then pushing them
deep and finding Dan's gland.

"Bruce!" Dan bucked, groaning low, shaking for him. Begging for his cock.

"Oh, right there." He laughed, pure joy in the feeling, in knowing he was making Dan
feel fucking amazing. And he pegged that gland again and again, made sure he didn't

neglect the rest of those nerves, fingers stroking and working as he humped against
Dan's leg like a bull in rut.

"Come on. Come on, honey. Please. I'm ready." Yeah. Yeah, Bruce'd bet he was.

He got the glove on, tugging hard on his balls to keep himself from coming just from
that -- Dan wasn't the only one ready. "Okay. Me now. Fuck." He pressed against
Dan's hole, the tight muscles fighting him for a moment, holding closed against him,
and then suddenly giving, the head of his prick pushing in.

All of those heavy muscles in Dan's back rippled, shook, then Dan pushed back,
taking him in deep.

"God fucking damn." His eyes rolled back in his head and he groaned, staying still for
a moment, his hips pressed up hard against Dan's ass, his hands opening and closing
on the man's back.

So tight. So hot. So fucking good.

"'s good. Deep." Dan squeezed, gripping him good and hard.

He nodded, fingers finding Dan's hips, squeezing. Then he realized Dan couldn't see
him nod and he managed a groaning, "Yeah, good."

Eyes opening, watching Dan's spine, he started to move. He watched Dan crawl up
the headboard, riding his cock, bouncing on him. Jesus fuck, that was sexy. He kept
his grip on the man's hips, tugging each time Dan came down on his cock, making it
that much harder, that much more.

Everything else disappeared. Everything. It was just his cock and Dan's body and
fuck. Fuck. He could see the fireworks, just flashing behind his eyes, exploding with
each fucking thrust. He was going to ride it as long as he could, the sound of their
bodies slapping hard together punctuating each burst of pleasure inside him, but it
wasn't going to be long. "Soon."

"Soon. Yeah. Yeah, man. I. My prick. Touch me."

Oh, fuck, look at him being a selfish asshole. He reached right around, groaning as

that heat hit the flesh of his palm. He wrapped his fingers tight around Dan's cock and
started stroking it.

That was all it took. Dan's head slammed back, heat pouring over his fingers. The
tight walls around his cock squeezed and milked him, demanding his own orgasm,
and he gave over to it with a moan, jerking as he filled the condom.

They stayed there for a few minutes, before they both sank to the mattress. He got rid
of the condom, and found a tissue, cleaning them both up before curling around Dan's
back, still panting. Face buried in Dan's neck, he made a happy noise that meant good
and thank you.

"Mmmhmm." They both sighed, settling down. "You want to stay, Officer?"

"I would, Doc." He kissed Dan's neck. "I would indeed."

"Good." He got a soft chuckle, one hand squeezed. "I don't suppose you have a day to
go to the ocean, see some late fireworks?"

"I do if that day's tomorrow." He had thirty six hours to call his own. A man could see
a lot of fireworks in thirty six hours. Could make quite a few in that time, too.

"No shit? I got a cabin. Beer. We could learn to like those little explosions."

He stroked Dan's amazing six-pack. "Earlier today I would have told you that would
be impossible, but I've got to agree now -- I just might learn to like this fucking
holiday yet."

Contributors

Vic Winter: Heat in real life is the bane of Vic’s life, whose favorite season is winter,
and Vic’s life is far more mundane than fiction. And when it comes to fiction, the
hotter the better is Vic’s motto. Make it romantic, make it sexy, make it erotic, but
definitely make it hot. Visit Vic’s in progress website at

http://www.stemsandfeathers.org/vwinter/index.html

BA Tortuga: B. A. Tortuga enjoys indulging in the shallow side of life, with hobbies
that include collecting margarita recipes, hot tub dips, and ogling hot guys at the
beach. A connoisseur of the perverse and esoteric, BA's days are spent among dusty
tomes of ancient knowledge, or, conversely, surfing porn sites in the name of
research. Mixing the natural born southern propensity for sarcasm and the
environmental western straight-shooting sensibility, BA manages to produce
mainstream fiction, literary erotica, and fine works of pure, unadulterated smut. Visit
BA at batortuga.com

Sean Michael: Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while
still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing,
smutting, organizing his vast gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring
on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs.

Visit his website at

www.seanmichaelwrites.com

or email him at

[e-mail]

Taste Test: Fireworks

Fingerstains copyright © 2007 by Vic Winter

Explosive Distractions copyright © 2007 by BA Tortuga

Little Explosions copyright © 2007 by Sean Michael

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner
whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in
critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box
2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN-13: 978-1-60370-082-5

ISBN-10: 1-60370-082-X

Torquere Press: Taste Test electronic edition / July 2007

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round
Rock, TX 78680